


Principles

by okaywhateverokayyes



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Humor, Ill-attempt at Humor, Internal Conflicts, M/M, Malec, Minor Spoilers, Past recollection, Shadowhunters - Freeform, Tags Are Hard, Tags are funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaywhateverokayyes/pseuds/okaywhateverokayyes
Summary: What was meant to be a joke, an ill-attempt at humor, had turned into something entirely different.(Or the story where Magnus makes it clear as to what exactly his principles are)





	Principles

“You’re sick, Alexander.”

Alec blinked, raising his brow questioningly as he crossed his arms across his chest, almost defensively, as if that insinuation was a direct insult to undermine his vigor and fortitude. He glanced down at himself, swiping his hand across his face almost subconsciously, also curious as to what exactly he had on his face for such an observation to be made.

His eyes weren’t swollen, his nose wasn’t stuffy, there was no flaky patches of skin anywhere in the area-which, if they had been, would have been something entirely different to be wary about. He rubbed at his jaw before leveling his head to shrug at Magnus, indignantly.

“I’m fine.” Subtlety was never his thing anyway.

Magnus waved his index finger in the air, poising determinedly as he took two giant steps, closing the minimal gap that had separated them just a second ago. Alec hitched his breath, glancing down at Magnus as he swayed his, now lightly lit blueish hue finger, against his throat.

Alec was amused, yet stymied his lips etching upwards. “What exactly are you doing?” He watched as Magnus hovered his hand over his neck, pursed his lips, arching his brows as if only he was _seeing_ something that Alec was oblivious to, before guiding his finger up towards his forehead. He snapped his fingers together, before pressing his cool palm against the temple of his head.

So he kept quiet, waited for Magnus to just finish he wanted to do, well-aware of how futile it would have been for him to contest. He settled on staring at the wall farthest to them, noticing nothing in particular, as it had been a wall he had walked past everyday for _years_. Yet, somehow, he found it that much more interesting-maybe to distract himself as nimble hands hovered over his skin-so close, yet so _far away_.

All Alec had to do was feign a slip before his body was pressed up against Magnus’, enveloped by his familiar hands and warming touch. It was as if they knew where they would needed to gravitate their hands, where to grasp, as if it was mundane and all too much familiar.

Instead, Alec wavered his eyes yet once more back at Magnus, lips curving slightly upwards in solidarity as he watched him continue to demonstrate his multitude of unfamiliar yet entirely abating artistry. There was a sense of ethereal warmth that emanated from magnus every time he displayed his warlock prowess, that he wondered if anyone else could sense it.

No, it wasn’t just the visual allure that captivated him-one, no one could have been privy to. It was this immense fervor he interjected in every sway, in every touch, in every expension of his capabilities. As if he was offering what he could to the best of his ability and nothing he ever did was half-way but wholeheartedly earnest.

“Magnus.” Alec said, dropping his hands to his sides only to slide them behind his back, kneading his fingers together.

“Yes.” He responded, without imbuing a glance in Alec’s direction, intent on figuring out _something­_ -anything to substantiate his previously mentioned claim.

Alec jabbed his hands into his back, his mind scouring over thoughts that he had meant to center, those he hoped wouldn’t render him incapable of maintaining some decent level of composure when he wasn’t in the confines of his room. Yet, as he watched as eager eyes looked right back at him eventually, after an intrepid silence washed over them both, he swallowed a bit before nodding in solidarity-as to convey his insistence to _continue, find out what’s wrong with me_.

He couldn’t continue to stare at Magnus, as if that would have absconded his loosely strung hold on his emotions. Alec ran over in his mind the protocols attributed to a level 4 demon incursion.

Over the past couple of weeks, they’ve trained in novel techniques as to increase unpredictability. For their own good, it was deemed apt to practice in maneuvers that were unexpected and yet entirely, effective. He had gotten better with aiming at angles his focus had been privy to. Right leg under, left shoulder strikes were those that rendered him vulnerable to the most slips, so he would advance his targets counter to his blindspots as if to ameliorate the few strikes that would have made through.

Levels were monopolized in an effort to categorize them into seismic groups, to have better understandings with as much particular details as possible that isolated them overall, and yet, generalized their capabilities simultaneously. It was the greatest fallacy in the order that usually ended with fatalities that could have been prevented if changed.

He knew he would bring this up at the enclave seminary, as did he feel the need to mention _other_ things-but if they were to hear of the onslaught of changes he wanted to make, he was sure that on top of  keeping a suspicious eye, they too would have upgraded that to a stringent off-limit policy enacted just for him so that it would have made it impossible for him to vocalize any, if at all, of his concerns.

Baby steps, he supposed, was the way to making actual concrete changes. And even as he became complacent with that thought, _time was not on their side_.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Magnus slid his hand downwards to grip his shoulder, running his thumb in circles, absentmindedly, yet so purposefully.

“Nothing interesting.” He answered truthfully, straightening his shoulders but lurching forward as to not have Magnus loosen his grip. “So-“ he said, intent on hearing the conclusions, “What are you diagnosing me with?” Alec, more than anything, wanted to bemuse Magnus’ observations.

Magnus held his gaze in contemplation. “Well,” he started off with, “over-exhaustion, malnutrition, sleep depravity, to name a few.” He looked away abashedly, grinning offhandedly. Alec wanted to scoff but settled for raising his brow in interest.

Alec whisked his lips downwards in a frown as he absorbed the words. “That’s-” _Absurd. Ridiculous._ “Inaccurate.” He settled for, emulating Magnus’ previously done actions almost subconsciously as he smoothened at wrinkles that had not existed at the helm of his undercoat.

Magnus gave him a wistful smirk. “And how exactly are you, Alexander Lightwood, coming to that conclusion?”

Alec shrugged. He turned on the heel of his foot in the opposite direction of where he had initially meant to go- _main op room­_ \- and decided that fresh air, whatever he could glean from the neighboring area, was much needed. Magnus followed beside him.

 

 

 

“I would know if I’m dealing with any of _that_.” He waved dismissively, as if those diagnoses hung in the air above him, daunting him almost seamlessly if not unwaveringly. They stuck to him as if they were concrete diagnoses to have been made after a thorough examination.

Magnus deadpanned as he strode in motion alongside Alec, parsing his lips in what Alec presumed to be, contemplation.

“Do you?”

Alec glanced at Magnus, raising his brow.

“Would you know if you were sleep deprived, malnourished and exhausted?” He clarified, lips thinned in discreetness.

Alec pondered briefly as to why he was being asked _. Of course he would know,_ it was his body, afterall. And yet, he let the easy silence fall over them as he questioned if it was _easy to know_ , at all.

“Maybe your body is habituated to your ailments.” Magnus said, offering a meek smile in return. To which, Alec reciprocated the notion, yet it felt more forced than he had intended for it to be.

Having to hear that his body had become accustomed to his indispositions-well, if that wasn’t daunting enough.

So he caved into that idea as he stopped in front of Magnus, placing his flattened hand against Magnus’ chest.

“Am I going to die?” He had meant for it to be an ill-attempt at sarcasm and yet as he watched as Magnus palled in return, it had been more _ill_ than _humor_.

Magnus shrugged. “Not sure. At this rate, atrophy is imminent.” Magnus ruminated, whispering jargon under his breath, unbeknownst to Alec. “Dysplasia, hair loss, collagen depravation- those are all well-dependent on your course of action.” He drily said, sliding past him as he strode down the corridor.

Alec was nimble as he followed suit.

“Wait- you are being _serious_?” Alec croaked, picking up pace as Magnus pushed through the wide doors in ease. It was as if he maintained his usual pace and yet, Alec had to expend a little more effort as he struggled to follow from behind.

Magnus was a warlock, which for all intensive purposes, somewhere in the job description entailed perceptiveness to others’ ailments. Alec scourged for any other rationale but gave up shortly as he lunged in front of Magnus in a manner unusual of him.

He shook his head brazenly. “Wait a minute, just-wait!” He hadn’t meant for it to shout and yet, as he watched Magnus’ response, he was left relieved as warm eyes met his. “Sorry,” he said anyway, contrite for the tone of his voice, “I didn’t mean to be-“

“ _Alexander_.” Magnus chuckled, lips etched upwards noticeably more sincere than stoic. “I’m kidding.”

Alec blinked in verbatim. At first, nothing sprung in his head. No visceral emotion, nothing. And yet, as he wavered his eyes in the lull quiet that fell over them, he tilted his head.

“That’s-“ _not funny. Cheeky_. “Okay.”

And it was.

It was just _okay_.

Magnus drew his brows inwards. “I’m sorry.” He offered, his smile widening.

Alec tried to play it off. Shrugged offhandedly. Threw on a convincing smile.

And to no avail, Magnus saw right through him.

“I apologize, Alexander.”

Yet, it does nothing to assuage whatever turmoil crept up in the pit of his stomach. It was not that he needed to hear an apology because to be honest, that wasn’t his concern. He wasn’t really angry at Magnus and yet, he felt something that he couldn’t necessarily pinpoint if he had to. It wasn’t annoyance, or disappointment, not even desperation.

It was-

Something entirely different.

“Without your permission, I would never violate implicit mutual understanding, Alexander.”

Alec drew in a sharp exhale.

Because-

 _Shit_.

Is that what it was?

 _Implicit mutual understanding_.

_A violation?_

“Magnus I never-“

“As high warlock of Brooklyn, a title rather obscene in the grander scheme of things,” he rolled his eyes as his voice wavered, “with nothing more than simple doctrine, have chosen to neither examine nor disclose any information that was never asked of me and that I, cannot duly do so, for the very reason that I, Alexander, have principles to uphold.”

Magnus watched him with weariness that seeped into Alec’s skull.

 _Principle_.

“Even if you were sick, I wouldn’t know,” his voice dulled as he continued, “And I would not know until you have decided to tell me, yourself. And I trust that you would,” Magnus was stern as he said, only to fluster as he lightly smiled,  “considering how keen shadowhunters are on preliminary examinations and such-“

Alec felt a surge of fervor that washed over him, so he curled his hand around Magnus’ back and pushed him forward, Alec instinctively resting his cheek against Magnus’ soft and sleek hair. He breathed in the musty air, the familiar smoldering wisp of hydrangeas from the garden above and soaked in the husky warm and yet breeze that emanated from Magnus.

It was a scent he never could really describe.

Yet, even as the ambiguity pestered him-

The thought of knowing that he had _time_ -years he hoped, to one day discern, what exactly Magnus Bane’s incense was-Alec pressed his lips to his scalp as he mumbled a languid “I love you” that only they both were able to hear.

He doesn’t have to wait for even a meager second to pass before Magnus dragged his hands and placed them firmly around Alec’s waist.

“I love _you_.”


End file.
